Two Words
by smurfette729
Summary: My take on the finale, one of a thousand, I know. Follows Jim's and Pam's thoughts through during the confession and the kiss. Oneshot.


A/N: This is my first fic, _ever._ It was begging me to write it, so much so that I couldn't really think about much else, so I finally gave in. _Please_ review, so I know whether you all think I should write any more fic. But please be constructive. Don't just tell me it sucks, tell me why it sucks. :)

A/N #2: I started this last week, but had to go out of town and wasn't able to upload it until today. Parts of seem similar to something that popped up sometime while I was gone, so I apologize for that, but it was all written before I read that, so I thought I'd post it anyway. I guess some of us just think alike. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so don't sue. I promise, if you did, you would be very disappointed

**Two Words**

He knows what he has to do. He has to tell her. He's been putting it off because he knows he won't be able to stand it. He can already see the look on her face. A mixture of hurt and confusion and, maybe, anger. He knows it's one of the hardest things he will ever have to do and that the only thing harder would be to stay and watch as she gets married and builds a life with someone else. So he just has to do it. He just has to say two words, two little, seemingly harmless, little words.

_I'm leaving._

He doesn't want to do it but he knows he has to. It's why he decided to leave the Casino Night still going on in the warehouse and go for a walk. He needs to gather his thoughts before he changes both of their lives and forever alters their relationship.

Stamford. Connecticutt.

What was he thinking? A slightly less nothing-job in an equally nothing-town. At least Scranton has _her_, his best friend and the only woman he has ever really loved.

His thoughts drift from the fact that he has to do it, has to utter those two simple words that hold so much more power than two short, simple words should. He begins to imagine an alternate universe, one in which he tells her not _that_ he's leaving but _why_ he's leaving. Why he can't stay. Why things can't continue on as they have been going, that to watch her marry another man might actually kill him.

But he knows he has to let that go. He has to tell her. Tonight.

_I'm leaving._

But how? How can he tell her he's leaving? How can he say goodbye? How do you say goodbye to the reason you get up and go to work in the morning?

Suddenly she's no longer in his mind, but in front of him. Flesh and blood and soul-consuming love.

And he's unprepared, but he knows he has to go for it anyway. No time like the present. Seize the moment.

_I'm leaving._

Two words. Quick and painless, like ripping off a bandaid. Two words. But he can't say them because he knows it won't be quick or painless. It will be slow and agnonizing and torture. But he has to keep going because he's already told her he needs to talk to her and she's looking up at him expectantly, curiously, with a hint of a smile because she's been teasing him about losing to her at poker.

The smile is what gets him. It's what makes him not want to do it more than ever. He doesn't want to be responsible for wiping that smile from her face. Doesn't want want to be responsible for the look that's about to replace it. For the hurt and the confusion.

Two words.

He's looking at her and trying to find the words, trying to form the two, simple words. _I'm leaving_.

All he can think about is how beautiful he finds her and how much he loves her and suddenly he's tell her something else. Not something he doesn't want to tell her, but something he has always wanted to say but never thought he could. Something else that will change everything.

"I'm in love with you."

He shakes his head slightly as he says it because he can hardly believe the words that are coming out of his mouth, can hardly believe what he's saying, that he's saying it.

He said it because he needed to say something and because he didn't want to make her give him that look, that hurt and confused look, and because the words came slipping out of his mouth before he knew they were there. And she has that look, anyway, and it was him who put it there. But, amid the hurt and confusion, there's something else. Something he didn't expect.

Shock. And fear.

"What?"

She's shocked. Not that he loves her, because she has always known this, in the way she knows the sky is blue and that ice cream is cold and that Dwight is...special. But now he's saying it, out loud. And he's saying to her. And so she's shocked. And she's scared, too, because although she knew this would happen someday, she didn't expect someday to be today and she doesn't have an answer for him. He's her best friend. And although she knows, has always known, that their friendship was more than friendship, she has Roy. She's engaged to him and she doesn't know how not to be his, how not to be with Roy.

And now Jim is apologizing to her, apologizing for making things weird between them. He's telling her that he just needed her to hear it and she thinks about how she wishes she could unhear it, wishes things could go back to being simple and easy between them. She thinks that he needs to take it back, because if he does things can go back to normal, and she wouldn't have to feel this indecision. She wouldn't have to wonder if being married to Roy was what she really wants, wouldn't have to know that there was another choice. So she gives him a chance to take it back, a chance to explain it away.

"What are you doing?'

But he can see what she's doing and he knows it's too late to take it back. It's too late to go back to how they were before, so he has to go forward. They both know what he's doing and he knows this. So he just looks at her. And she knows that he won't be taking it back. She's asking him what he's expecting to happen, what he expects her to say. But he can't tell her what to say. All he can he can do is explain himself.

"I just needed you to know. Once."

And, as he says it, he realizes that it's true. He needed her to know and now she does and he knows he won't have to wonder. He's told her and now he's going to find out how she reacts, how it changes things, how things would be if she knew. He doesn't have to wonder.

She looks down, searching the ground for answers, for some clue as to what she's supposed to say. But it's not written there and she knows she can't wait any longer. She has to say something. She starts to say something, she's not even sure what, but she makes the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. They are filled with love and fear and hope and all she can do is look into them. She tries to speak and her breath hitches in her throat. Suddenly she's not sure and what she says comes out more like a question than a statement.

"I can't."

Two words. Short, simple and to-the-point under normal circumstances. But these circumstances are anything but normal and nothing about those two words are simple or to-the-point. Her words say, "I can't," but her voices asks, "Can I?"

But he can't sort through it right now. She said what she said. _I can't_. She can't. And his heart breaks a little. And now she's telling him how much their friendship means to her and now he's the one who can't.

"Don't do that."

He can't take it. He can't stand there while she tries to make them be something he knows they're not. Just friends. Best friends.

But she can't stop. She has to tell him, has to make him understand how much he means to her. So she keeps going, even though she knows it's not enough. He tells her he wants more, but she's with Roy and she doesn't know if she can change that part of herself. For ten years part of her identity has included her being with Roy and she doesn't know if she can change that, doesn't know how. So, even though she knows Jim is also a part of her, she says it again.

"I can't."

This time it comes out as a statement rather than a question. But it's a loaded statement. Besides, "_I can't,"_ it says, "_I'm sorry,_" and, "_I wish I could._"

All he can do is nod. Part of him had hoped for something different, a different outcome from this unexpected turn of events. But he had expected this. He had tried to prepare himself for the day that she would know how he felt and not reciprocate the feelings. So he just looks at her and nods, sadly memorizing her because he knows things have changed and he wants to remember as much of the old Pam as possible before this becomes real and their new and awkward relationship as coworkers and pseudo-friends sets in.

And now she's the one apologizing. Apologizing for making him misinterpret things, for making him believe there was more between them than there really was. And his eyes are beginning to burn because she's telling him it's all in his head. Because she doesn't care about him the same way he cares about her. Because now she's blaming herself and she's upset and it's all his fault. Because things have changed and they both know it and she's upset and a little bit desperate. She's sure she's going to lose him, sure he'll never understand. He can see this. He sees the sadness and desperation etched in her features and his vision becomes blurry.

Suddenly he's angry. He's angry because he does understand. Because he can see that she is lying to him and to herself. He knows she loves him, too, but she's afraid to believe it, afraid of what it would mean. And he's angry because she's upset and it's his fault for opening his mouth in the first place, for not having the guts to tell her what he meant to say. _I'm leaving._ Two words. And he couldn't say them and now everything has changed.

A tear escapes and burns a hot path down his down his cheek. He reaches up to brush it away as he tells her it's not her fault, as he takes responsibility for what has happened here tonight. He walks away because now he really can't stand it. He needs to walk, to clear his head, to figure things out.

So he leaves her standing there. And all she can do is stand there and stare at her hands, focusing on an engagment ring given to her by a man she is no longer sure about.

She heads upstairs to the office, needing some privacy to gain some perspective. She can't explain it, but she knows it will be easier to think up there, quiet and solitary and away from prying eyes and coworkers. She doesn't turn on the lights, liking the darkness that seems to match her mood. She bypasses her desk and heads for Jim's, needing to feel close to him while she wraps her mind around what has just happened.

She stands there, taking in the things on his desk - his statue from the last Dundie Awards, the medal she'd made from paperclips and yogurt lids for the olympics they had held, pictures of Jim with his family - and she is overwhelmed at the _Jimness_ of the area. She suddenly realizes she's in trouble. She can't ignore what has just happened, things can't go back to normal. Their friendship has changed and so has she and she needs to figure out what to do next, where to go from here. She needs to talk to her mother - her number one advice-giver and problem-solver, the only one who really knows how to help her figure this out.

When she gets her mom on the phone the entire story comes pouring out. Like Pam, Mrs. Beesley is not suprised at Jim's revealation, rather at the fact that he's said it, that one of them has finally seen what has always been between them and opened their mouth. She listens as her daughter tells her what happened, how Jim confessed his feelings and how she reacted, how Jim walked away and Pam just let him go. She had heard enough. It was time for her to help her daughter figure out what she really wanted.

"When did this happen?"

"About ten minutes ago."

"When he walked away did you try to stop him? Did you say anything?"

"No, I didn't know what to say."

She realizes she still doesn't know what she would have said had she stopped him. She imagines a universe in which she could have admitted the truth to him, to herself.

"How about that you're engaged to Roy? The wedding is coming up."

She's crashing out of her daydream and is suddenly panicking again. The wedding _is_ coming up and she is no longer sure of what she wants, no longer sure she thinks there should be a wedding.

"Yes, I know."

"You have to be careful. You don't want to hurt him, Jim's a good guy."

"Yeah, he's great."

Mrs. Beesley has always been able to read her daughter, has always been able to see what even Pam herself couldn't see. And in these words she hears something more.

"Pam, are you in love with Jim?"

And Pam can't deny it any longer, not to herself, and not to her mother.

"Yeah, I think I am."

And now that she's admitted it she thinks that maybe it doesn't have to be so hard. Maybe she can give into the thoughts she's been supressing for a long time, thoughts of her with Jim instead of Roy, unsure of her future but safe and happy. She wonders if she would be able to admit it to him if he were there, with her.

And suddenly he is there and he's walking towards her.

He'd gone upstairs hoping to find some perspective, a sign of where to go from here.

He thought he might be able to figure things out if he was surrounded by the things that had become so familiar to him, things he would always associate with her and their relationship, in the place where it had all started and grown. As he opens the door to the office he considers the possibility of packing up his things, clearing out his desk, moving on with his life. He thinks he might call Jan about speeding up his transfer, cash in some sick days, leave instead of having to watch the detoriation of their relationship. At least then he might be able to fool himself into thinking that nothing had changed. Even pining from afar was better than knowing she knew how he felt and didn't care. He could avoid all of the awkwardness, avoid having to see her with Roy, avoid the reality that the friendship he had cherished was altered forever. All because he was incapable of uttering two little words.

Caught up in his thoughts, seriously contemplating running away from his problems, he doesn't hear her, doesn't realize he's not alone until he sees her. She's leaning on his desk, talking on his phone, illuminated by the blue screens of a dozen computers. When she sees him she quickly ends her phone call and he thinks he hears her say, "mom."

_She called her mom._ He knows this means something, knows Pam always calls her mother when she needs advice. He tries to wrap his mind around what this means, tries to figure out where to go from here. But all he can think about is how she looks in the semi-darkness, bathed in the blue haze emanating from the computer screens. Her features are softened in the dim light and she seems to be glowing. She looks like an angel. Innocent. Pure. Perfect. He knows things have changed and there's no going back. He's told her how he feels and he knows where she stands. All he can do is wait, hope for a miracle, hope she realizes she loves him, too.

She opens her mouth to speak. She says his name, asks him to listen. All she gets out is two words. _Listen, Jim. _And he's heard enough. He's afraid of what she's going to say, afraid it won't be what he wants to hear. He has to stop her, has to stop the words from coming, has to stop her from crushing him completely. Suddenly he's walking towards her and he has nothing left to lose. He thinks that if she's about to tell him that they can only be friends or - worse - that they can no longer be friends, he really might die. He sees his last opportunity to kiss her, to feel her lips against his own, to run his hands across her back and through her hair.

So he takes it.

He closes the gap between them and claims her lips with his own, pulling her closer.

For the briefest moment she is unsure of what to do. She considers pushing him away, telling him she's engaged, saying she has no feelings for him. She thinks that she should end this kiss, tries to remember Roy. But the world has melted away and nothing makes sense, and all that exists are her and him and this kiss. So she gives in to it. She presses her body against his when she feels the pressure of his hands on her back. Her own hands find their way to his hair and the back of his neck, then trail down to his chest. It's here that she's reminded that she needs to push him away, needs to tell him that she's come to a conclusion. She has to tell him now because she knows that if she waits another second she'll lose her nerve. But his lips are so soft and his breath feels so warm on her skin and the kiss feels so good and _right_ that she leans back in and allows one more tiny kiss, one more moment of utter perfection before she opens her mouth and changes things forever. One more second before they both have to face the consequences of what has happened here tonight.

He reluctantly pulls away, allowing the kiss to end. He knows the time has come to hear what she has to say but he's slightly less terrified now. He's taken his chance, done everything he could. He thinks that if she's about to break his heart he might someday be able to put it back together because at least he has this one perfect moment to look back on, this one moment in which he felt she was his, completely.

_She kissed him back._

He looks into her eyes and waits to hear what she'll say.

"I can't."

Two little words. How can two, small, seemingly insignificant words hold so much power, so much meaning? How can two words actually kill him? They have, even though he knew they might be coming. But he has to say something and he had half expected those two words so he tells her as much.

"I know."

But she has crushed him and he can't look at her. He can't focus on anything in particular. His eyes can only dart from one object to another, looking at absolutely anything but her.

_I can't._

His heart is shattering into a million pieces and he vaguely remembers thinking only seconds earlier that he might someday be able to put it back together someday. But that was before it was a reality and now he thinks he was an idiot to have thought that would be possible. He thinks he will never be whole again.

His eyes have finally rested on a spot just above her head and he's summoned the strength to walk away. He thinks again about calling Jan, thinks about sneaking back sometime for the items left in his desk. Or just leaving them behind. Better not to have reminders of her around him. He's about to walk away, leave all of this behind, move on, when she utters the two words that make his heart stop beating. The two words that make hope come crashing back.

The two words that change everything.

"Not yet."

Hope you liked it! Please review.


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